Freckles
by Satiah
Summary: A series of sibling-related one-shots, featuring Neil, Lyle, Amy, and Gundam. Now with Gundam Turkey.
1. A Family of Two

Mobile Suit Gundam 00 © Sunrise

...

Lyle Dylandy generally didn't have a problem with the world; more often than not, it was the world that had a problem with _him. _He was a laid-back, easy-going type of guy; a gentleman to the ladies; a bit of a prankster (as younger brothers generally are, no matter if they're younger by a couple of years or a handful of minutes); and a man who did his best to extend a friendly hand to the neighbors. He would mow the lawn for the elderly couple across the street, let the kid next door stay over when his parents yelled and screamed at each other too loudly, and climb a tree in hot pursuit of a stranded cat.

He wasn't sure if he had become a police officer because it was in his nature to help others, or if the job had sparked the interest. Either way, he was well-known: one of the top agents in the field, famed for throwing his life on the line somewhat above and beyond the call of duty in order to nab those idiots trying their damnedest to ruin the lives of as many others as possible, and...yes, he was also notorious for letting the ladies off with a warning when those tears were falling in big, fat drops before he got out of his car and asked for their license and registration. (He blamed it on having a little sister to take care of back home.)

So, generally speaking, Lyle didn't have a problem with the world. His job presented him with hundreds of opportunities to change the way things were, and he always gave it his best. But the day he saw Amy run out of that building, tear-streaked mascara flowing freely through a healthy field of freckles, he knew this world _had to change_. And he'd be damned if he wasn't the one to do it.

So, with face set and lights on, he set out to make a difference.

...

The first time his sharp eyes spotted that beat-up pickup, he knew there would be no chance for the oily weasel to escape. Officer Dylandy was _known_ for his ruthless, merciless attitude when dealing with stupid motorists, and today there would be no exceptions. This bastard was going down.

Flipping his siren, Lyle ran the grungy pickup to the side of the road. But instead of parking behind him as protocol dictated, Lyle pulled his squad car alongside the truck, rolled down his passenger side window, and waited patiently for the driver to get the picture that he wanted to talk.

"Hey," Lyle called.

"Yes, Officer?" answered the shaky voice of a high school senior, some kid just barely eighteen. His face and knuckles were terror-white, and the nervous tremors of his body were just as visible as the sweat pouring down the sides of his geeky, greasy face.

"You dumped my sister."

"I...excuse me?" the boy asked, blinking rapidly.

"You made her cry," Lyle growled. "My little sister. _Amy_ _Dylandy_." He spoke slowly so the idiot would get the point of his message.

The boy's eyes widened as he recognized the name of the cop he was messing with. No words came to his mouth, but more sweat ran down his face in growing rivulets, staining a large reservoir across the neck of his green tee-shirt. "I-I'm sorry?" he offered, eyes pleading, voice all but begging.

Lyle stared at him a moment with an icy, unrelenting gaze. With a sigh he replied, "Yes, I suppose you are." Tossing a paper-airplane shaped ticket into the boy's open window, Lyle watched as the kid's eyes followed its brief passage before it was brought down by the dashboard. "And your tags are seriously expired."

With that parting message, Lyle rolled up his window and drove off, watching the truck through his rearview mirror, satisfied smile brightening the rest of his morning.

...

"You're in for some deep shit, man."

"Why? Wha'd I ever do?" Lyle asked, looking from his endless piles of paperwork to the bright grey eyes of a fellow officer. He was back in the office, jacket haphazardly thrown across the back of a swivel chair, tie loosened, hair a mess of frustration-combed curls. He had a cup of cold coffee by the computer, a half-eaten Snickers bar beside it, and a bagged lunch in his bottom desk drawer, compliments of Amy. (Previous experience taught him to keep that drawer _locked _until he was ready for it, as he had come to find out Amy's sandwiches were awfully popular around here.)

"What do you think you did?" his buddy laughed. "You idiot! The chief's _so_ onto you!"

"The chief?" Lyle asked. "Who the hell told the chief?"

"Nobody! But you went and messed with his son!"

"Aw, shit."

"No kidding!"

"I'm dead," Lyle groaned, wiping a hand across his face.

"Yeah. You're definitely dead. But don't worry; I'll comfort your sister for you when you're gone."

Lyle could have strangled his comrade, but cops didn't fight cops. (You never wanted to not be able to trust the guy who just might save your ass in the next emergency.) So instead he settled for grabbing the other cop by his necktie, bringing their faces close. "Say one more thing," he spat, eyes narrowed and sniper-deadly, "about my sister..."

"Yeah, yeah," the officer laughed. "Got it. Nothing until your bones are cold in the grave."

Lyle released his buddy and cursed the idiot's ass out of his office. The other guy didn't give a damn, plugging his ears and ignoring Lyle as he laughed and laughed. The loud exchange was so incredibly normal that nobody bothered to pay a whit of attention, preferring instead to ignore it altogether with a smile and a nod to the seething, red-faced Irish officer when they next saw him storming beside the water cooler.

...

The chief was an aged man, on the force longer than anybody dared to count. Smart, passionate about his job, and fantastic in the field, up until the point where he had been involved in a drug bust and someone decided to bust him up, instead. He still made for an intelligent, supportive, and well-loved chief, nicknamed "The Legend" by the rookies. He lived up to his massive image with a belly as big as the stories told about him.

"Dylandy," the chief said, pausing in the open doorway of Lyle's disorganized office. "We need to talk."

"Sir?" Lyle asked around a generous bite of a turkey, ham, and cheese croissant-encrusted sandwich.

"Get in my office."

"Yessir," Lyle replied, easy grin set on his face as he shoved the rest of his sandwich back in its protective drawer and followed after the chief, ignoring the looks he got from fellow cops who clearly meant to convey the idea that this was possibly the last time any of them would lay eyes upon his living, breathing body. He made sure to smile and wink as he gave them an attractive last impression.

After the door to the chief's office closed, however, Lyle's nonchalant attitude sobered and he switched his sexy face to that of the mischievous grin he wore whenever one of his siblings busted him and he found himself in a heap of trouble with Mom.

"Sit," commanded the chief. Lyle obediently sat.

"What is this about you harassing my son?"

"Sir?" Lyle asked, feigning ignorance.

"He pissed his pants yesterday."

Lyle tried not to look elated, but he didn't do an entirely convincing job of it.

The chief sighed. "Dylandy, look. You're an excellent cop. The best we've got. But you're pushing your boundaries."

"You mean the whole letting attractive females off with a warning thing? 'Cause I know I'm not the only one who does _that_."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Right. Then...the speeding with my lights on when there's no emergency so I can be on time to drop my little sister off at softball practice?"

"What?"

"Never mind, Boss," Lyle said, grinning. "I didn't say anything about misusing the city's expensive equipment or abusing my own privileges."

"Look, Dylandy," the chief sighed. "Stop pushing your luck. I keep you because you're talented; there's no disputing that. But ever since your brother left the force..."

Lyle's smile vanished into a tightlipped line as his ice-blue eyes hardened and looked aside.

"...you've been...difficult. Detached."

Lyle sighed. "What do you want me to do, Sir?"

"Just behave yourself, boy. That's all I ask. Behave yourself."

Lyle nodded and left the office, rolling his eyes like Amy did when she was exasperated with her brothers' pointless lectures. With the trademark Dylandy grin fixed back in place, Lyle waved off the inquisitive stares thrown at him by the others. He made his way back to his office and closed the door. He had an appointment with a sandwich that wouldn't wait, and he didn't want to be bothered by further interruptions.

...

"How was work?" Amy asked when Lyle threw his shoes off and settled on the couch with a cold beer. She had been reading those girly fashion magazines of hers on the living room floor with a bowl of Funyuns set off to one side, but looked up excitedly when her older brother came through the door.

"Same's as usual, Ames. Same's as usual."

"I hear you ticketed Mitch."

"Oh? Is that the loser's name?"

"Yeah. The guy who dumped me."

"So you no longer have a date to the prom."

"Nope," she agreed, sighing. "It sucks being dumped. Especially when you're popular."

Lyle took a sip from his beer and patted the seat next to himself. Amy's eyes lit up and she bounced happily over to her brother, cuddling beside him. "I'm a little too old to go with you, aren't I?" he asked, ruffling her frizzy red hair.

"Yep," she replied, trying to snatch the beer from his other hand.

"Hey, hey _hey!_" he said, holding the can out of her reach. "My beer. Mine! Go get your own if you want one!"

Amy giggled and settled back down, hitting Lyle with a decorative pillow.

He laughed. "Say...do you think they need chaperones?"

"Teachers already do that, I think."

"Think they'd like the idea of having a cop present?"

Amy thought the suggestion over with a smile. "Probably," she said slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. "But who's gonna chaperone _you? _With all those cute teenage girls around and you with no lady of your own?"

"Hey now, that was low!" Lyle said, tickling his sister until she shrieked and tumbled to the floor. "Really, really low!"

Amy laughed and ran away, leaving Lyle to shake his head and speed-dial a pizza for dinner. He made sure it was double pepperoni. Amy didn't like pepperoni.

...

Amy wasn't sure how her brother did it, but there he was, escorting her to her senior prom. He was a chaperone, of course, and not her date, but she still knew she was arriving with the most attractive escort this dance would ever see. Lyle was a flirt; every girl knew it. Some of them would intentionally speed on their way home, flying down the backroads when they knew her brother would be on duty, hoping he'd pull them over and then let them off with a smile and a wink. It was a gamble: You never knew when he'd ticket you and when he wouldn't, but Amy understood the rules of the game; she'd just smile and laugh when she heard her friends' plans, but never played along. (Tickets depended on how much traffic was on the road that day. Lyle would let you off completely if there weren't any other cars around and if you didn't push anything above eleven miles over the limit. Unless, of course, you were a boy, in which the only time you got off with a warning was when your story was _really, really good_.)

Amy curtseyed as Lyle opened the door for her, stepping lightly into the building. One glance around and she had already spied a group of hooligans, a covert attempt at spiking the punch with vodka, and a girl smuggling drugs into her purse. Lyle smiled at her and shook his head; he wasn't on duty and neither was she, just pretend to be regular people and enjoy the dance. She grinned back and nodded, knowing he'd still pay attention to every person there, no matter what he said to her.

Her brother was so cool.

...

The day after the prom Lyle sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper while he waited for his coffee to cool. Amy was still asleep, and would be for another hour at least, so he tried not to make too much noise as he fixed himself breakfast. Shoveling some scrambled eggs into his mouth, he turned the page and sighed; the world certainly had its fair share of problems. Another civil war was sparking over the oil crisis in the Middle East, threatening to spill into battlefield conflict; terrorist strikes were gaining momentum in the world's largest metropolitan areas; and those damn Gundam things were still harrying everybody, making bigger messes out of the ensuing confusion. Once again, he was reminded of how glad he was to live in this Out-Of-The-Way Nowheresville, located smack dab in the middle of No-One-Cares, Ireland. It was a good place to raise Amy; he'd never want her to end up as warped on the inside as her two older brothers.

Sighing, he flipped the newspaper over to the comics section and found his favorites, but a noise in the hallway startled him into sharply glancing up. His surprised eyes found Amy's sleepy ones, and he couldn't help but chuckle at her bedraggled appearance: tussled hair sticking this way and that, baggy pajamas simultaneously sliding off one shoulder while also being stepped upon, remnants of dark mascara and eyeshadow clinging to her expressionless face as she yawned a giant _good morning_ and lazily scratched at her side.

"What'cha doin' up, Ames?" he asked, sliding his coffee cup over to her side of the table while she took a seat.

"W-w-waaaanted," she yawned again, rubbing at her eyes, "to see you."

"It's barely after eight."

"Yeah," she grumped. "Believe me, _I know_."

"But?" he asked, eyebrows raised, prompting her to continue.

She chugged the rest of the coffee. "But I don't usually see you before work, y'know? I wanted to say thanks. It was really cool, having you there. At prom."

"You mean I didn't embarrass you when I winked at all your friends?"

"Of course not! They love it when you do that kinda stuff. They'll all be talkin' on Monday."

"Lyle, my man, you've still got it!" he laughed, slapping himself a high-five.

"Oh, you!" Amy squealed, leaping from her seat to punch at his arm. "You're so...so..._so!_"

Lyle continued to laugh as his sister playfully beat him up. And while the world had its own problems, and maybe even had issues with him as a person and his version of responsibility, he didn't much mind the world. Because he knew it wasn't an evil place filled with hatred and bitterness. When the world got him down, all he had to do was remember that darkness couldn't stand to live when faced with a sister's bright, happy smile, and so inside he felt his heart smiling too, letting go of the anger he had nurtured within it. After all, seeing Amy laughing like this, growing up without bitterness in her own life, he knew there was hope for the next generation.

Just being here, caring for and loving her as a big brother should, had already made a hell of a difference.


	2. Josephine

Mobile Suit Gundam 00 © Sunrise

...

_April. Susan. Samantha. Natalia. _

_Gwendolyn, Sunday, Summer._

_Darling little Helen._

The boys hadn't been the least bit excited when they learned they were to become Big Brothers. It was difficult enough sharing the world between themselves; habitually fighting over who received the most attention and who was the favorite son and who was better and why. They couldn't fathom contending with yet another sibling. Not when the universe consisted solely of the two of them.

They didn't know what it would be like to have a sister, but it didn't sound pleasant - not in the least. For one, sisters were _girls_, and for another, the twins didn't like _girls_. But their parents did, and the boys watched with disgust as every adult they knew babbled in nonsensical excitement over the frills and lace and little bows and the color pink_. _Ugh, there was so much _pink _in the house it was nauseating.

So the boys took to avoiding their parents as they discussed possible names for the baby, searching for that certain something which would perfectly suit the surname _Dylandy_. Something to go well with the rest of their names; something which held mystery and beauty within a play of graceful syllables. They were looking for a name with depth and meaning. Connotations. Perfection for their perfect little girl.

The boys looked at each other and pulled mirrored faces of disinterest. They were scolded by their mother, who told them they should care about this more - _she was their sister, for goodness' sake! - _so they flashed identical grins and flung themselves out the door faster than their father could holler after. They raced down the street, cutting through all the shortcuts to their secret hideout, arguing, calling each other names, eventually agreeing to suggest said names for the baby. They broke out in laughter, knowing their parents would not be amused.

_Loser. Moron. Freaktard. Ugly._

_Lame, Stupid, Vomit, Slug._

_Dumb Flea-bag._

The routine went on for weeks: Mother and Father poring over baby naming books, asking friends and relatives, scouring the Internet. Neil and Lyle avoiding having anything to do with their sister, not wanting to be near the twirling toys and pink-white crib and newly painted room because it used to be Lyle's room, dammit, and now they were forced to share.

Their rooms were the _only_ things they didn't have to share before.

(They weren't happy.)

Mother and Father told them to _get used to it, it's not that bad_; and besides, their darling little sister needed her own space. Never mind the twins who needed _their own space_; never mind Lyle who was sick and tired of being compared to his _better brother, Neil_; never mind Neil who was sick and tired of dealing with his _obnoxious brother, Lyle_. Never mind they already shared toys and sinks and tubs and clothes because their parents thought it was cute. Never mind they were growing boys with different friends, different abilities, and different interests. Never mind they only did things together when they were forced to mutually defend against their parents in situations such as these.

_The baby needed her own space_, and that was that.

(Them versus Her.)

_Rose. Charissa. Elizabeth. Abigail._

_Margaret, Dorothy, Lillian, Haley._

_Precious Isabella._

_Vampire. Butt. Armpit. Monkey._

_Snot-eater, Turd, Dummy, Freak._

_Ugly Wart-monster._

Their resentment grew and grew as their privileges shrank and shrank: no horsing around in the house, no pushing or shoving; you might break something of the baby's. Be careful when you run to Mommy, don't throw yourself on her like you used to; it might hurt the baby. Don't go in the baby's (_Lyle's, dammit, Lyle's!_) room, don't touch the baby's things. Don't cop that attitude with _me_, misters. Apologize and say nice things about her, she's never done anything bad to you.

Before they knew it, they were forced into the car, driven to the hospital, and made to wait for their sister's Big Debut. They were left with Gram and Gramps while Mother and Father went somewhere else, both boys sulking until they remembered their Gameboys in the back of the car and Gramps let the twins run out to fetch. (At least they could be pacified.)

Then all of a sudden they were brought into a hallway and told to look in a room filled with squirming, squiggling babies, screaming and crying and sleeping. The twins, stretched up on tiptoes, made their disgusted faces and reached into their back pockets to retrieve their hastily-stashed games, but Gramps gave a gentle shake of his head and the boys - surprised - watched as a nurse grabbed one of the ugly, smushed things and brought it out to the hall. Gram and Gramps held it while the boys backed away, but in the end they forced Neil to take it because he was too polite to Gram to say no. So with shaking hands he held the tiny little worm they called his sister and let Gram guide his arms into a more secure, steady hold. Lyle peered over Neil's shoulder and the twins gazed curiously at their sister, little Josephine Dylandy, and suddenly she opened her bright blue eyes and stared straight back.

The twins blinked.

"It isn't right," Lyle whispered.

"No kidding," Neil agreed.

"What's wrong?" Gram asked, alarmed, afraid something had happened to little Josephine. Gram tried to take her from Neil's arms, but he turned his back on her and passed his sister to Lyle - Lyle who immediately mimicked his brother's hold and held his sister tightly to his chest.

"Boys?" Gram asked again.

"Her name," Neil said.

"Is wrong," Lyle finished.

Gram frowned; Gramps looked relieved. Neil and Lyle looked at the baby and agreed she was much heavier than she looked.

"So, boys, what should it be?" asked the deep, smooth voice of their father. His eyes were shining brightly, beaming with pride as he watched his family gather together in their first moment of acceptance for the new life among them.

There was no hesitation; their answer simultaneous.

"_Amy."_

And so she was.

The boys didn't mind sharing their room so much, after they brought Amy home. They were excited to watch Mother and Father rock her to sleep, play with her, cuddle her in soft blankets of pink (_ew, gross, pink_). They volunteered to fetch bottles, blankets, wipes, and diapers, although they refused to remain anywhere near Amy when those disgusting things needed changing.

After Mother and Father went to sleep, Neil and Lyle would sneak into the baby's room and watch her. Sometimes she would watch them back. Mostly, though, she just slept, until that time of night when the boys finally fell into the soft folds of slumber themselves and she decided to open wide her little lungs and scream.

But that was okay. They screamed back.

"_You dumb banshee!"_


	3. One Without Two is None

Mobile Suit Gundam 00 © Sunrise

...

It was lonely in space; that point was inarguable. To imagine himself hurtling through an impenetrable void of nothing, punctuated solely by stars too distant to reach felt reminiscent of a nightmare he had had when he was smaller. In the dream he fell indeterminately, never knowing from what he had fallen, never knowing where he was falling to. Much like space, with its obvious lack of an up or down, this way or that. He simply fell through the vacuum and hoped nothing nasty would try its hand at obliterating his existence.

He had been separated from his family for several years now. He wasn't sure how many, exactly, but neither did he care to recollect. It was difficult enough making the decision to leave his twin brother behind, out in the middle of nowhere while he gallivanted off in space (irony was such a _pain_), trying to make the world a better place.

Although, as hard as it had been to leave Lyle, it was even worse with Amy. Lyle he had chased off himself. But Amy...Amy had stuck with him until the end, until _he_ turned his back on _her_. Left her sleeping within some hill, buried beneath who knew how many feet of sod and dirt and mud, knowing she was in the one place he could never hope to reach (not with all the things he'd done), but the fact that she had been _there, right there, dammit,_ was something he couldn't forget.

After that, the rest of Ireland had been easy to leave. Space waited with open arms.

The Ptolemaios was a busy place, filled to the brim with complete strangers. He couldn't float down two hallways without running into _somebody_, be it Ian or Christina or Miss Sumeragi. An impersonal hello was usually exchanged: friendly but detached. A greeting passed between two strangers going about their daily business, unable to break through the cold, metallic barriers set up by Aeolia Schenberg so long ago. (Smart stuff designed to keep them safe, he knew, but he didn't like it.) He didn't know if there was anyone on board who _didn't _use a code name, didn't know if there was anybody on board he would honestly get to _know_ before he died.

Sometimes he ran across another Meister. Meisters were funny: the four of them had the most to lose, risked the most every damn day. So the Meisters were the four who clammed up the hardest. To Neil, it seemed like they, of all people, should be the ones _pouring out_ their hearts and souls so they wouldn't ever be forgotten. Leave a legacy. Make a mark. Do something to prove you were actually human at one time_. A human who lived his life trying to make things better for everybody else._

Maybe they just didn't have anyone to leave their hearts _with._ He certainly didn't, not out here. Although he would have given the world to have had a soul-searching conversation with something more than a bathroom mirror, addressing his reflection by his younger brother's name, pretending all the words the mirror replied were real.

He couldn't even talk to his damn robot. But Haro, out of them all, understood him the best. It was sad, it really was. And the anesthetized atmosphere of the place ground him down, wore him out, frayed his ability to withstand life to the barest of threads.

With a frustrated sigh he pounded his fist on the glass separating himself from the big blue ball down below. Western Europe stormed before him, difficult to see beneath the swirling carpet of clouds, but he knew Lyle and Amy were down there somewhere and he looked in vain for them both, knowing he could never find one and would never speak with the other. (Which was which he sometimes couldn't tell.)

"Something wrong?" questioned a soft voice from behind. Probably from just beyond the doorway: Setsuna had the ability to show up wherever he was least expected.

"Nah, just making sure it's solid enough to hold me in here while keeping the nasty no-oxygen stuff out there," Neil said with a grin, turning around to watch as the kid floated into the room. He wasn't in a hurry, moving just fast enough to get to the middle of the floor. Setsuna liked to give people space. Probably liked more to preserve his own, but who could tell? Neil didn't really know the kid.

Setsuna didn't reply, but his watchful eyes took note of the background. The kid had no way of connecting the view to Neil's personal history, of course, but somehow he had this eerie feeling that Setsuna somehow _knew. _

"What are you doing up so early?" Neil asked, attempting to steer away from a subject they hadn't even broached.

Setsuna gave him one of those curious looks of his, and Neil had to lay on that easy-going smile as a defense. See? Damn it. Even _he_ was deflecting the personal stuff, hiding behind the mask of Lockon Stratos, projecting the confidence and separation which came from playing the role of a character who was-but-wasn't _you_.

"It's just after noon," Setsuna said, pointedly fixing his eyes on the Earth below. "Greenwich Mean Time."

_Dammit. _But Neil, like so many of the others around this hollow place, had been a player in the game far too long to let his slip-ups show. Instead, he laughed jovially and ruffled the kid's hair - knowing most people aboard this ship didn't like physical contact, least of all this one. "Like I said, Setsuna. What are you doing up so early?"

Setsuna ducked from beneath his touch and was out of reach before Neil could do anything about it. (The kid had some serious reflexes!) So he smiled and shrugged it off, and Setsuna's eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. The move wasn't lost on Neil.

Nothing more was said, and soon enough Setsuna F. Seiei floated into the great confines of their futuristic compound, leaving Neil alone. He held his facade a while longer, just in case, before letting his shoulders slump and his head connect with the cool glass separating him from the turning Earth, where day in and day out strangers were allowed to be strange. They were allowed to befriend and betray, love and leave, hurt and heal. Down there a simple understanding endured, never said, but always known: Earth was where they belonged.

Out here, there was nothing.

With a grimace, Neil turned and floated back along the nearly identical corridors, picturing the reality that he was but one man trapped within a thin metal box hurtling through space with no clear destination. (Neither him nor his box, as it were. Sometimes you had to fly without a place to fly _to_.) Lyle would never know, should he happen to die out here. Neither would Amy. The only ones to know would be his companions, and call him cynical, but he didn't think he'd be remembered very long. Certainly not long enough for the survivors to tell their children, or their children's children. And even if those stories survived, it'd be the legacy Lockon Stratos told over and over.

Neil Dylandy had died a long time ago. He had just refused to face it.

There was no ignoring it now, he supposed. Not in a place like this. It was time to come to terms with who he was (no, with _what _he was; he was no longer a _who or a whom, but a what_) and if this plastic pretense was the shell in which he needed to live, at least he was still alive. There were hundreds of others like him, living behind impenetrable masks, cold and distant. He was just one more cog in the wheel. One more nameless face. One more faceless name. So if he was going to become what they wanted him to become, he'd have to get off his butt and do some work.

With steel in his eyes he locked his helmet in place. The world beneath stared solemnly into his mask, seeing nothing but a cold, metallic mirror.

There was no person here.


	4. Little Gundam, Big Gundam

A/N: I guess by now it's apparent I dislike writing along a canon timeline. I hope nobody gets a headache trying to follow my AU logic.

...

Mobile Suit Gundam 00 © Sunrise

...

"It's been awhile," Neil said, flexing his fingers.

"Sure has," his brother laughed. "I bet you'll blow it."

Neil grinned back. "Probably. Good thing I'm practicing on Amy instead of one of us."

"Yep. I'd like to remain beautiful."

Amy scowled. "You two are jerks."

Neil made a pretentious display of whipping a barber cape around Amy's shoulders while Lyle assisted with the choking noises, trying to make Amy think Neil was going to tighten the Velcro a bit too much. He didn't, of course, being the gentleman that he was, but he did make certain to say _oops_ and then pause after the first few snips of Amy's auburn locks hit the floor. After a few more tentative cuts, Lyle stared at the top of his sister's head, bug-eyed and open-mouthed. Amy glared. The boys remained silent.

Amy rolled her eyes. Her brothers _never_ shut their big mouths, and Lyle couldn't act seriously to save his life. "Neil," she said, "I'm gonna kill you if you've messed up my hair already."

Her words were enough to get Lyle laughing, and the joke was bust. Satisfied, Amy settled more comfortably atop her bar stool and waited for Neil to finish trimming while Lyle cracked jokes, argued with his brother, and generally made use of his loud-mouthed reputation. Neil kept pace with little difficulty, enjoying the easy conversation as he worked. Amy chose to stay out of the banter; it could drive her batty, trying to converse with a pair of twins who instinctually filled in one another's thoughts.

"And that's when Julie - "

"You're kidding! I thought Mark - "

"Nah. Left the keys on the counter."

"So she - "

"Absolutely."

"Huh."

"Sixteen grand."

"I expected twenty."

Fortunately, she'd been listening to Twin Dylandese long enough to understand they were talking about Mark's precious boat - the one his girlfriend Julie sold because she didn't like how he had been seeing Tiffany as of late.

Lyle, the one not preoccupied with comb and scissors, caught sight of her face. He smiled at her and looked to Neil, saying, "The little lady's bored."

"That's your fault," Neil shot back. "I'm already paying her attention."

Amy groaned. "No, you're not! You're chattering about the boat again."

"I'd like to own a boat."

"You get seasick!"

"That's Lyle."

"Is not!"

The three-way argument continued, with each sibling trading sides at random intervals. Their voices only momentarily abated as Neil ran the hairdryer. Lyle and Amy settled for making faces to pass the time.

(Neil had acquired his reputation as the family hairdresser from the many years he'd spent watching Grandma, a skilled beautician, on the days when Lyle had detention and the twins couldn't walk home together. He'd stuck with his habit of visiting her through high school. Lyle and his underage pals would drive off to break the law and Neil would grab his backpack and head off to see Grandma..._Amy had always said Lyle was the fun one._)

"And...voilà!" Neil cheered. You're done!"

Amy first looked at Lyle, whose mischievous eyes glittered happily. Uh-oh. The twins were still in a playful mood. After turning around to look at Neil's innocent expression, she knew she was in trouble. Her eyes met the handheld mirror and she sighed.

...

"What? You afraid you'll end up with your bangs dyed blue, tied up with a big pink bow on top of your head?" Lockon Stratos asked.

"No."

"Then what? Kid, you need your hair cut. It's terrible, all in your eyes."

"I like it the way it is."

"Yes, but will you like it when it's stuffed inside your helmet? We have enough insulation as it is! Your head's gonna sweat! How do you pilot a Gundam when your face is roasting in its own personal sauna?"

Setsuna fixed his fellow Meister with a level gaze. "I don't see how this is relevant to our briefing."

"No, no, he's got a point," Allelujah cut in. "It _is_ getting a bit long."

Miss Sumeragi did her level best to keep the smile off her face, but she couldn't chase the mirth from her voice. "You know," she mused aloud, "we could all use a few days off."

Setsuna's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What about the rest of the meeting?"

"Ah, well, I guess you boys already know what I was going to tell you. Wang Liu Mei's brought you up to date with her email, and there's no need for me to devise a mission plan just yet. Without having a set of instructions to holler at you, I don't have much else to say." She finished with a shrug.

"You're abandoning protocol?" Tieria asked, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "Adjourning, just like that?"

Miss Sumeragi winked back. "Just this once, Tieria. Just this once."

...

"Now where are those scissors...?" Lockon mumbled to himself, searching through his bag of personal effects. "I know I have a good pair in here somewhere."

Allelujah blinked between Setsuna, seated and cloaked in the middle of Wang Liu Mei's house, to Lockon as he continued to rifle through a duffel bag stuffed with beauty supplies. "You, uh, do this a lot?" he asked, eyeing a professional grade hairdryer and matching curling iron.

"I've had training, if that's what you're asking."

"Really?" Allelujah was impressed.

"Oh, yeah. No actual license, though."

Setsuna's face remained expressionless, but his eyes went straight to Miss Sumeragi. She shrugged in reply. "Hey, don't look at me. I don't know a thing about your personal histories."

"You could try to lie a little better," Setsuna replied.

"Now where...oh! There they are!" Lockon interjected, triumphantly holding up his best salon shears. "Right where I left them."

"You don't have a license?" Allelujah continued.

"Never bothered to get one," Lockon shrugged. Then he caught the guarded look in Setsuna's eyes and laughed. "Hey, now, it's no big deal! I definitely could've qualified. I just liked shooting guns more than I liked styling hair."

"Well, that explains why your own always looks so nice," Miss Sumeragi commented.

Lockon blinked innocently. "This? Oh, no, completely natural."

"Uh-huh."

Lockon grinned and started combing through Setsuna's tangled mop. "So, you guys want me to trim yours too?"

"We'll wait to see how this turns out," Allelujah replied.

"Sure thing. I'll make sure I mess up Tieria's so nobody else has to worry." He received a pointed glower in response, but ignored it. "I'll be careful with Miss Sumeragi's, though. Never mess with a lady's hair; I learned that _real_ quick."

Wang Liu Mei smiled sweetly. "Wouldn't that include Tieria?"

Lockon decided it'd probably be best to change the topic of conversation before things progressed any further.

...

"There! All done!"

Allelujah and Miss Sumeragi leaned in for a closer look.

"Hey, not too bad."

"Not too bad at all."

Lockon brought over a handheld mirror, holding it steady for Setsuna. "What do you think, kiddo?"

Setsuna stared at his reflection a moment before nodding his approval. "It looks good."

Lockon beamed. "Glad you think so. Now you're my Little Bro, too. I never do hair outside the family; it's too much of a hassle."

Setsuna quirked an eyebrow. "Little Bro?" he repeated.

"Sure, why not?" Lockon shrugged. "We're all one big family here. You just happen to be the smallest, so you get to be the Little Bro. I'm the Big Bro."

Setsuna had no idea how to respond, so Lockon continued, eyes glittering. He was on a roll, now. "Of course, if that's getting too familiar...we could always refer to our machines as nicknames."

"Our...Gundams?"

"Absolutely! You can be Little Gundam and I'll be Big Gundam." He smiled and put an arm around Setsuna's shoulders, pointing discreetly toward Allelujah. "That one's Tall Gundam, and that one...that one's Fat Gundam," he finished in a whisper, not daring to point at Tieria lest he catch the other Meister's attention. "Since Virtue's so huge and all."

Setsuna couldn't stop the beginnings of a smile. This conversation was too absurd.

Lockon considered the reaction a monumental success. Straightening up, he turned to address the others. "Now that I've had a practice round, anybody else...?" he asked, staring pointedly at Allelujah's straggly bangs.

"Sure," Allelujah shrugged. "I guess it's getting long enough to rival Feldt's."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"Don't really want to be confused with a girl."

Tieria left the kitchen before any new jokes could be pulled at his expense.

...

Neil made his way to his room, tired but content. It felt like years since the last time he had been allowed to relax and laugh as freely as he had this past afternoon. His own family was still alive - he saw them as often as he could, pretending he worked overseas at a secret military base (_hey, it was mostly true!_) - but visits were infrequent and rare. He had missed the bright smiles.

Celestial Being was a massive organization. As such, it was structured and rigid, especially when concerning Gundam Meisters. But when you lived out on the Ptolemaios, away from everything familiar, you realized those rules were meant to be broken. Required code names and confidentialities...they were all safety measures designed to protect and preserve, but only served to alienate the crew from one another. Really, if you were going to place your life in the hands of a total stranger at every waking moment, you needed a way to connect.

They were a family out there. They didn't always follow the rules, and they certainly weren't perfect, but they relied upon each other and supported one another. Hell, he could even say he loved them all, with their strange little quirks and strange little problems. It wasn't all that hard adopting them, and he definitely thought his own siblings would approve.

...

The sea breeze gently ruffled Setsuna's hair, making it difficult for Lockon to see what he was doing. He paused a moment before continuing, careful to not make any careless mistakes. The kid sat atop an old wooden crate, wrapped in a makeshift cape. Lockon had done Setsuna's hair so many times already that he could practically do it blindfolded, but it was nice that the kid held so still.

Allelujah was in a talkative mood. The banter between them volleyed light and easy as the latter peeled apples with a pocket knife. Tieria studied a cookbook and mostly went about his measuring while ignoring everyone else, focusing entirely on his task because he was loathe to do something incorrectly. (It was for this reason that the others had a running joke that Tieria's cooking tasted like _science_, but they were careful to not say it to his face.) Setsuna remained silent, simply waiting for Lockon to finish.

Announcing the completion of his task, Lockon deftly threw his shears into the surf, points embedding in the sand. He complained loudly that he needed a new pair because those things were getting _old and squeaky_. Setsuna listened as Allelujah suggested _washing off the salt next time_, but said nothing himself. He let the breeze tousle his newly shortened hair before standing, tossing off the cape, and wandering over to his fellow Meisters.

It took him a while to notice the smile on Lockon's face. Raising his gaze, he looked to the other Meisters and noticed similar mirth - to varying degrees of concealment. Setsuna sighed and ruffled a hand through his hair.

He discovered two tiny ponytails amid the rest of it, secured tight with bright yellow ribbons.


	5. Celery

Gundam 00 © Sunrise

...

It had been ages since they were together like this, the three of them sitting around a table full of food, telling stories and joking like they had never separated. Of course, in the old days they would've been surrounded by plates of potatoes, turkey, and gravy - today it was fast-food burgers, fries, and chocolate shakes. Not the most invigorating Thanksgiving meal, but when you had the opportunity to share with this kind of company, it was a scrumptious royal banquet.

Amy's chuckles spilled into her straw, Lyle grinned his idiot grin - the one he used solely for occasions where he made his baby sister laugh - and Neil froze. He could have _sworn_ he saw GN particles pass through the clouds. But that was stupid - they were on vacation.

He tried to focus on the conversation but couldn't, and before his siblings could pick up on his distraction he excused himself, saying the coffee had hit him hard - he was getting to be an old man, y'know - and while they giggled and grinned he skipped past the restroom and exited the building. Sliding into a security camera's blind spot, he flipped open his portable device and checked the messages for anything calling them to arms. Nothing but the usual background chatter: reminding the crew how long they could play before the next mission, updates to the system Ian was running, and an automatic reminder to charge Haro's backup battery because he had to do that once a year and he'd been putting it off for a while now. He switched to radar mode and scanned for particles, noting a trace. So a Gundam _had_ flown by. He wondered why.

Risky maneuver. Must've been Setsuna.

Satisfied there were no Gundams lingering in the area, Neil strolled back inside, visited the men's room so he could exit with freshly-smelling-of-soap hands, and rejoined the conversation with a groan when he realized Lyle and Amy were telling stories about the time he ended up in second-grade swimming class without his shorts.

That had been Lyle's fault, but still.

...

They put more effort into their Thanksgiving dinner, with Neil cooking a turkey and Amy digging frozen vegetables from beneath the mounds of ice cream in their freezer. Lyle supplied the beer - and the chips 'n dip; pink lemonade for the lady - but mostly the beer. Amy made him go back to the store for dinner rolls and dessert.

The knock on the door was a surprise, but that was because they had no neighbors. The town was nestled beneath the bluffs - the Dylandys above, where the winds hit hardest. Lyle figured it had to be one of Amy's idiot boyfriends to brave this kind of weather. Neil shrugged and basted the turkey.

The sound of excited chatter rolled into the kitchen, and soon enough Amy returned to help ferry food to the table. Neither brother asked who had come over - guests were always welcome - so it was quite the shock when Neil carried out the candied yams.

"Hi there," came a cheerful wave from Allelujah, seated comfortably on the couch. To his left was Setsuna, to his right, Tieria. Neither flanking Meister made a move of greeting.

"Your friends came over!" Amy bellowed happily from the background. "They told me it was a surprise!"

"It certainly is," Neil said, suspicious.

"Woah, Neil has friends?" Lyle poked his head out from the kitchen. "Quite a few, too," he whistled. "I was expecting a dog."

Amy shoved him behind the wall. "Shaddup, you."

Neil let the platter down with a loud, unmuffled _thunk_. "What are you doing here?" he hissed. "We're not supposed to be together!"

"You make it sound like a bad t.v. drama," Allelujah chuckled. "Relax. Nobody knows who we are."

Turning on Tieria, Neil asked, "And _you_ thought this was a good idea?"

"A Gundam Meister is never alone, Neil Dylandy," Tieria returned with a level stare. "This includes holidays."

Neil paused. "You used my full name."

"Better that than Lockon Stratos," Allelujah provided. "_That_ one would be dangerous."

"Having you guys in my living room _is_ dangerous."

"What's dangerous?" Amy asked from beneath Neil's elbow. "Aren't you happy to see them?"

"Of course I am!" Neil bluffed, ruffling Amy's hair. She batted him away and fixed her bangs back in place. "But these guys can get rowdy at times. Don't want to wreck the house, you know. It's a century old and Grandpapy's remains would kill us."

Amy looked over the three. "They don't look all that lively to me," she mumbled.

Neil steered her toward the table. "Look. Food."

"Sure is!" She brightened. Turning to the Meisters, she said, "Well, come on; don't be shy! If there's enough to feed my brothers, we've got enough for an _army_."

Allelujah beamed, comfortable in the familial atmosphere. Setsuna remained quiet, and the two clueless Dylandys took his silence for shyness. Tieria tried his best to not protest when Allelujah pulled him by the arm to a seat closer to the crowd. Neil decided it was best to go along with the situation; there was no use worrying about it.

Amy said the blessing; Lyle told the first stupid story. Neil blinked when he saw the heap of food on Setsuna's plate (he'd never seen the kid eat before - space grub wasn't exactly _food_) but then again, Setsuna was a growing teenager. Pouring himself a glass of lemonade, he did a double-take when he spotted the eyebrows on the turkey.

"What...?" he started, and Allelujah burst into the laughter he had failed to hold back.

"Celery, Neil Dylandy," Tieria explained. "Part of the parsley family."

"Yes, yes, I see that. But it looks like...," he trailed off, not wanting to slip up in front of the civilians.

"One of those Gundam things," Lyle habitually finished for his faltering twin. He poked a brow with his fork. "Damn good job there, kid. I hardly saw you move."

Setsuna continued eating, ignoring the conversation. Amy leaned over and whispered, "My brothers see _everything_. Makes it hard to sneak out on Friday nights."

"It's a Gundam turkey," Neil summarized, baffled.

"Sure is," Allelujah confirmed, "And if you don't mind, I'd like a piece."

...

There was room for them to stay the night once the furniture was pushed to the side, and Amy found a heap of Grandmammy's old quilts neither Lyle nor Neil knew they still had. Laying them out, she discovered a worn-down Coleman lantern and tossed it in the middle of the floor: a makeshift campfire.

"This is stupid," Lyle said, choosing the closest spot to the wall. "My comfortable, warm bed's right over _there_."

"You can sleep on the floor for one night; it won't kill you," Amy replied, distributing pillows. "Besides, this is gonna be fun."

"They're all _guys_," Lyle whined.

"So I'll take the spot next to you. Quit complaining."

"You're my _sister_."

"Would you rather I trade with Neil?"

"No."

"That's what I thought." Pleased, she sat between her brothers and surveyed the room. The atmosphere was awkward. "Oh, come on," she pouted. "Don't guys have sleepovers?"

"No." The answer was simultaneous.

"It's _not_ weird. We're spending quality time together!"

"We're too close," Lyle said.

"You're the one backed into a corner," Amy hissed. "And those guys shared the couch just fine."

"That's different."

"Oh, come on," she said, tugging Lyle's arm. "Lighten the mood. Tell us a story. About Neil."

"Not about Neil," corrected Neil.

"About Neil," encouraged Allelujah.

Lyle brightened. "I remember this one time in Australia..."

Neil groaned. "No."

Amy smiled her devilish grin. _"Yes."_

...

"So, how was it?" Miss Sumeragi asked, once the Meisters rejoined Ptolemy. "The girls and I spent our vacation on the beach. Lovely time for a tan and no reason whatsoever to move."

Christina's face was golden brown, Feldt's red.

Allelujah smiled and offered Feldt a sympathy pat. "Tieria and I traveled a bit," he shrugged. "Didn't stay in any one place for long."

"We compiled data for our next Intervention," Tieria explained. "VEDA suggested illegal research facilities, the most obvious of which operate as terrorist strongholds in Guatemala, Nicaragua, and Cambodia."

"Wow," Christina remarked, "You guys sound like a barrel of fun." Turning to Setsuna, she said, "What about you? At least you took your Gundam."

"I parked it outside and stayed in my apartment until it was time to pick those two up."

Christina sighed and rolled her eyes. "Even better."

Lockon grinned. "Sounds like I had the best time out of all of you. And before you get too excited," he added when he saw Christina perk up, "I did what I do every break." Leaning an elbow across the top of Setsuna's head, he said, "I spent it with my family. The whole extended lot of 'em."

Christina's face fell. "My goodness, Miss Sumeragi. What are we going to _do_ with these guys? They need girlfriends!"

"Not a lot we can do," Miss Sumeragi shrugged. "Except get back to work. Come on, you slackers - I've got coordinates, you've got jobs. Let's get our own party started."


End file.
